Snow
by Save.The.Werewolves.111
Summary: My first Hairspray fanfic. Brenda's POV of before, during, and after the events of the movie. On Hiatus.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I'm sure you all know the drill. I don't own anything. Execpt the younger sister. I made her up. Oh, and the girl (Rennie) is Brenda.

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_"Then think of what you did_

_And how I hope to God he was worth it..._

_Let's get these teen hearts beating faster, faster_

_So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,_

_will you dance to this beat and hold a lover close?"_

--Panic! at the Disco, "Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off"

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Prologue 

**Mid-April, 1962**

"Honey, are you gonna buy that or stare at it?"

The girl spun on her heel, clutching the small white cardboard box to her chest, blue eyes wide.

"Oh," she said, trying to hide the nerves from her voice. The girl glanced down at the box in her hands. "Yes. Yeah, I'm gonna buy it."

The other woman, the one who had asked the initial question, raised one thick eyebrow suspiciously, clucking her tongue as she did so. "I get girls like you in here all the time," the woman said, gesturing to the drugstore around her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the blue eyed girl snapped irritably, her thin dark eyebrows drawing together. The pharmacist shrugged slyly, eyeing the small box in the younger girl's hands.

"I think you know full well what I mean." The pharmacist nodded to the box. The girl glanced down again at the small box.

The woman was right.

She did know full well what she meant.

Not that she'd ever admit it.

And not that she'd ever admit that this little box held her fate on the inside.

Because there was no way that it would turn out positive. It couldn't be. It was impossible. She was supposed to be a role model; she was supposed to be perfect. Sure, she wasn't under the microscope as much as some of the other girls. But she would be. She would be if this damn thing was positive.

The girl sighed dramatically, hooking a single black curl that had sprung loose from her tight bun. Although she had sprayed her hair persistently this morning, her hair was still slightly uncontrollable. Though that was the least of her worries.

"How much is this thing?" the girl demanded, ignoring the older woman's previous statement.

"$2.99."

"Isn't that a bit much?" the brunette asked half-heartedly, reaching into her small white clutch purse, dropping the box as she did. The words on the front of the box stared up at her. Mocking her.

_Pregnancy Test._

The brunette's full red lips pursed into a frown as she nudged the box with her foot, sending it onto its side.

"Pick that up, will you?" she demanded, handing over the exact change for the test. The pharmacist took the money, her eyes still dancing.

"G'luck, sweetheart."

The brunette quickly stood up, clutching the pregnancy test in one fist.

"Excuse me?" The girl glanced around, before focusing back on the woman. "What kind of thing is that to say to someone?"

The woman behind the counter shrugged innocently. "I have to get back to work, hun," she drawled, apparently bored with the conversation.

The girl snorted, stuffed the small white box into her purse before hurrying out of the store. Her mother would be back at home in the next twenty minutes. If she timed this well, she'd be able to have the thing outside in the trash bags before her mother got back.

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"Rennie! Where've you been?" 

Damn it. The brunette winced as she carefully shut the kitchen door behind her. Why did her sister have to have the ears of a freaking rabbit?

The girl, Rennie as her sister had called her, looked up as her sister came barreling down the stairs.

"What'd ya mean, Lizzy?" Rennie asked casually, trying not to make it apparent she was lying.

Rennie's sister, Lizzy, narrowed her eyes. The girls were as different in appearance as two sisters could be. Lizzy was a short eight year old girl, with long golden hair and small brown eyes. She looked like the kind of girl who needed to grow into her beauty. Whereas Rennie was a more classic beauty; thick black curls, pale skin, big blue eyes.

Rennie tapped her foot impatiently, not wanting to offend her sister by shouldering past her to get to the upstairs bathroom. She didn't want to do anything that would make her sister angry enough to tell their mother she'd been out. Though she could always make an excuse...she'd gone to get a candy bar, or something.

"Listen, Liz," Rennie said before her sister could answer. "I really need to go to the bathroom. Can I have a second?"

Lizzy narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Okay…" she trailed off. Rennie thought she heard her sister say something else, but she was already half-way up the stairs. The girl sure could move fast in heels.

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The clicking of heels was the only sound in the bathroom. 

Rennie paced anxiously over the tile floor, her blue eyes downcast, though occasionally flicking to the counter-top.

"Rennie! Rennie, I really hafta go. Are you done yet?" came Lizzy's annoyed cries in-between banging on the door-frame.

"Liz, can you wait for like…five more seconds?"

"What're you even doing in there that's so important?"

"I'm almost done!" Rennie whined, glancing at the counter again. Her breath caught in her throat. It was the moment of truth. Slowly, carefully, Rennie leaned over the counter, pushing her thick curls, which had sprung completely free of the bun, out of her face. Her eyes narrowed before widening into the size of dinner plates on her face as she stared down at the pregnancy test.

It was positive.

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**A/N: I'm not certain I'll continue this story. I have a good idea as to where it's going, but I'm not sure I love it so much. I may just continue it, though. I don't know. Anyway, if you want more, please review!**


	2. Fairytales

**A/N: **So I decided to continue this story. This chapter is a bit longer, as you can see (Three and a half pages on Word). I don't like the beginning that much, but I think it turned out pretty well. Anyways, review please!

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything...

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_"Stuck in the moment_

_Dead at the scene_

_And it's on tonight_

_This is the life that you wanted, right?_

_So turn off all the lights_

_Dressed up just like a movie star_

_At all the parties they'll know who you are_

_Wouldn't it be great, to be fashionably late?..._

_What I'm saying is do you, do you want to lose it all?_

_'Cause this is more then just a dance hall drug_

_You can't wait to fall in love_

_All I'm saying is do you, do you want to learn to fly?_

_Then you should pack it up and say goodbye_

_'Cause when the push comes to the shove_

_It's just a dance hall drug."_

--Boys Like Girls, "Dance Hall Drug"

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**Late February, 1962**

Brenda Ann Phoebe-Joan Lawrence was quite a name for such a small baby.

When Jacqueline Lawrence had found out she was going to have a baby, she and her husband, Ray, threw themselves into overdrive getting ready for the baby. Ray immersed himself in work, Jackie spent hours arranging and re-arranging the furniture in the nursery. With the baby due in eight weeks, the only finishing touches on building their child's life were picking the names.

Jacqueline and Ray were betting on a boy; blue nursery, boy's shoes and clothing, the whole shebang. And so naturally they chose boy's names. Brendan John Charles Lawrence. Brendan and John after Jackie's two older brothers, Charles after Ray's father.

Of course, the Lawrences didn't have a boy. They had a daughter.

But they didn't want to choose completely new names. They broke up the name Brendan into Brenda Ann and changed John to Joan, and instead of Charles, they used Phoebe, after Ray's mother.

Brenda Ann Phoebe-Joan Lawrence. Certainly a mouthful. After all, who would want to say that all the time, when you're trying to call your daughter in for dinner, or picking her up from school, or taking her with you to the grocery store? Brenda would do fine.

Brenda's story would most likely begin when she was three years old. Her grandma Phoebe sat her down on her lap and told her stories about how she was a dancer. Phoebe told Brenda about her days in the ballet, about the hours and hours and hours of hard work, about the sweat and tears and blood that came with it. But she also told Brenda about the glamour, the limelight, the grace that also tagged along with the hard work. It was a cutthroat world. And somehow, that appealed to the little girl. Phoebe gave Brenda tickets to go with herself and Jackie to the ballet, to see Swan Lake. Brenda remembers everything about that day. How her mother talked to Phoebe as they sat in their seats, saying she was worried Brenda wouldn't sit through it.

"What was going through our minds," she said, shaking her head and sending blonde curls bouncing. "Taking a three year old girl to the ballet! She'll squirm and fuss throughout the entire thing."

But Brenda didn't. As soon as the lights went down, she was enthralled. The costumes, the make-up, the lights. The whole thing just seemed so…alluring. Brenda watched with fascination as the men and women danced across the stage. And right then and there, Brenda Lawrence vowed that was what she was going to do. Just like Grandma Phoebe, she'd be a dancer. The rest of the night, Brenda tugged on her mother's skirts asking when she could have her first dance lesson. Jacqueline laughed.

"It's a phase," she told her mother-in-law. "She'll get over it."

Phoebe disagreed.

"I was like her when I was young. All I wanted to do was dance. Look what happened to me. I was a dancer. She will be, too."

Brenda had always liked her grandma Phoebe.

It was a few months after Swan Lake that Jacqueline finally signed Brenda up for dance lessons. The constant questioning and begging from her daughter was growing rather bothersome. Jackie gave in, which was something she didn't regret. She'd never seen the girl so happy. Every Saturday, after she came home from her lessons, Brenda would be chattering on and on. About the instructor, the dancing and the other girls in the class. Most of the girls in the class with Brenda were neighborhood girls, and soon they were all friends. Always at each other's houses, playing outside in the street, and dancing, dancing, dancing. Practicing together, performing together, learning together. They were girls like Darla Hans from up on the corner, and Vicki Weston two streets to the left, and Tammy Linden across the street. There were twelve girls in the class, and all grew to know each other inside and out through the years.

Then the von Tussles moved in, three houses to the right of Becky Philips and her family. They had a daughter, Amber, who was nine, the same age as Brenda and the other girls. Amber von Tussle was a sweet little thing, big blue eyes and big blonde curls. Always polite and courteous. So naturally, everyone liked her. Until the winter of 1955, when her father walked out on them. Amber's mother, Velma, had always been demanding. She gave the other women in the neighborhood a bad feeling. Velma was clearly up to something all the time, yet no one had the nerve to investigate what. But after her father left, Amber did a complete personality 180. She had only been in the dance class for a year, and yet she was thoroughly convinced she was the best. She snapped at the other girls, ordering them around like they were her own personal team of servants. None of the girls wanted to offend her, especially since they all secretly feared her mother. They all just whispered about her, smiling and pretending to be her friend whenever she came in the room. Everyone knew Amber von Tussle was close with her father, and it ripped her heart into hundreds of pieces when he left, but this was ridiculous.

A few of the more temperamental and out-spoken girls talked about confronting Amber about her attitude, but none of them ever really considered it. None of the girls expect for Shelley Carlisle, that is. Shelley was, and still is, a signature redhead. Fiery personality, not afraid to speak her mind, and won't take 'no' for answer. Shelley was tired of sitting around watching the new girl step all over everyone. After one Friday afternoon lesson, Shelley cornered Amber, confronting her for everything she'd done since she'd moved to Baltimore. Ever since that afternoon, Shelley and Amber held a vicious rivalry, each determined to come out on top. And Amber got a step up when her mother became manager at WYZT Studios. WYZT broadcast the ever popular Corny Collins show; everyone who was anyone watched it practically religiously. As soon as Amber reached high school, her mother easily pulled some strings to get Amber on the show without bothering to audition. Of course, all the girls from Brenda's dance class practiced night and day for the auditions. Every four years, the council was replaced with fresh, young faces. With Amber in, there were only nine female slots left on the cast. Three girls wouldn't get in. And no one wanted to be one of those three girls.

Audition day rolled around. The nerves on set were undeniable. This was it. Do or die. Or at least, that's what if felt like to the girls. Each girl danced her heart out, and each girl knew that may not be enough. The girls flocked to the studio when new spread that the list had been posted. Who had gotten in, who hadn't. Brenda frantically scanned the list for her own name.

Amber von Tussle…Lou Anne Wilson…Noreen Jones…Doreen Jones…Darla Hans…Becky Philips…Tammy Linden….There! Right between Tammy Linden and Shelley Carlisle was her name. Brenda Lawrence.

Brenda was so proud of herself. Her mother and sister watched her first few shows, before Jackie decided they were all just going to be the same thing and gave up watching daily. But Brenda felt like royalty. All the girls did, so did the boys who had made the show. Being on the show gave you some kind of power. You were a celebrity. Everyone wanted to be like you. Everyone. Young kids looked up to you, your peers admired you, your elders were proud of you. Everyone knew your name. It was the best feeling in the world to Brenda. This show was her big break. It was just like a fairytale to Brenda.

And that lead her to where she was now.

Which was in a dimly lit dressing room at WYZT studios, four years later.

"You're sure the door's locked?" Brenda murmured, leaning up against the wall.

"Why, you're that concerned about getting caught?"

"You could lose your job. _I _could lose my job."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Are you, now?" Brenda purred, lowering her voice even more. Her eyes flicked up and down his frame. They shouldn't be doing this. It was wrong. She shouldn't have this kind of…relationship with a man significantly older then she and who was, technically, her boss. But she couldn't help it. The man practically oozed charm out of every pore. Brenda wrinkled her nose. That wasn't a pleasant image. It made charm seem like slime or something. Ew.

He took a step closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face into her neck.

"You're a beautiful girl," he whispered. "And you have lovely perfume. Have I mentioned that?"

Brenda smiled softly, tilting her head back and letting her eyelids drop shut halfway. "I think you've mentioned the beautiful part once or twice before. I've never heard you compliment my perfume before, though. Thank you."

He lifted his face from her neck, and she brought her head back up to look him in the eye, pouting slightly.

"Bren," he began slowly, pulling her closer to his body. "Have you ever thought about where we're going? You know…as a couple?"

Brenda laughed, running her hands through his hair. "That's not like you, Corny. Asking questions like that. But if you really want to know…Well, I think this whole thing's very romantic. It's dangerous. Especially since I'm supposed to be with Jesse. But…and you better not laugh at this, but I think it's almost like…well, like a fairytale."

Corny smiled, planting a soft kiss on her neck. "I never believed in fairytales," he murmured into her neck, slowly leaving a trail of kisses up her skin to her ear, letting his lips linger there for a moment.

"Well, do you now?"

"I think you may just sway me."


	3. Secrets

**A/N: **I know this update took awhile, but this has been a really crazy week. I was going to post the next chapter as well, to apologize for the lateness and the fact that this chapter is not very good, but I barely had the time to get this one up. I'll try to get the next update up much sooner then this one, though! So, if you could review this...I'd be very happy.

Disclaimer: No, still don't own anything...

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_"Do you know that your love is the sweetest sin?_

_And I feel a weakness coming on_

_Never felt so good to be so wrong_

_Had my heart on lockdown."_

--Boys Like Girls, "Hero/Heroine"

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**Early March, 1962**

Snow was rare for this time of year, especially in Baltimore.

"I bet it's going to be all gone by noon tomorrow," Amber drawled, still tugging at her hair in the stand-up mirror hanging on her bedroom door. She didn't even bother glancing out the window at the snow, where most of the girls were currently gathered.

"You always have to ruin everything, don't you?" quipped one of the girls at the window, Shelley. Rather then answering, Amber sighed dramatically, turning to face the group of girls assembled in her room.

"I'm bored," she announced, to no one in particular.

Brenda's eyebrows rose mischievously, red lips turning up into a smirk.

"I have a secret," she said lightly, toying with one of her stiff black curls. Her eyes scanned the room as nine other perfectly hairspray-ed heads turned to look at her. Brenda nodded, growing more excited at the prospect of telling everything by the minute.

_It's a bad idea_, a voice in the back of her head said. _They're gonna tell._

"I do," Brenda continued, ignoring her voice of reason. "But…" she trailed off. They'd need to give her something in return, something she could use against them if they ever told…

"Tell us!" whined the girl to Brenda's right, Darla, who was Brenda's closest friend on the council.

"I can't," she moaned, enjoying her moment in the spotlight. "It's just-"

"If you weren't going to tell us, you shouldn't have brought it up in the first place," Amber interrupted, still standing by the door, arms crossed over her chest cynically, though Brenda could see a hint of intrigue in the other girl's eyes.

"Like I was saying," Brenda went on, pointedly ignoring the party's host. "It's just, I think you all should give me something of yours, so that I have something I could ever use against you, should one of you tell anyone."

Amber raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow skeptically. "Come on," she said. "It can't be _that_ big. I bet you're making whatever you're about to tell us up." Despite her disbelief, Amber settled down on a throw pillow on the ground, in between Tammy and Doreen. Brenda shrugged and yawned, stretching out on the one the ground, enjoying the feel of having all the eyes in the circle on her. As she lay cat-like on the throw pillows spread out on Amber's bedroom floor, she fiddled with the necklace Jesse had given her for their one month anniversary. Brenda felt like she shouldn't be wearing it, but at the same time, it would feel wrong if she took it off.

"What should we give you?" piped up Vicki, clutching possessively to the promise ring she had been given by Mikey. Brenda shrugged again, scanning the faces of the girls in the circle.

"I don't know. Jewelry, journal pages, some secret of your own. Anything of importance to you, really."

Darla was the first to respond, taking off the charm bracelet her father had given her for her sixteenth birthday. "Here," she said, handing it over. "You can keep it if I tell anyone." Darla watched as Brenda fingered the bracelet, her symbol of trust to her friend. Slowly, the other girls joined in, handing over jewelry and telling stories. The last girl left to give something up was Amber.

"Fine," she grumbled reluctantly, grabbing a small porcelain doll from her bedside table. "Take this. This better not be some sort of…trick. Or something," the blonde snapped, dropping the doll onto the pillow beside Brenda's head. "Her name is Louisa," Amber added, as a vague after-thought. Shelley raised both eyebrows, snickering.

"Louisa?" she giggled, eyes dancing.

"I'll keep good care of _Louisa_," Brenda sniffed, completely ignoring Shelley. She promptly stuffed everything she'd been given into her bag, grinding her wad of gum between her back molars as she did.

"So," she began, turning back to face everyone. "I don't really know how to begin this…"

Becky gasped, eyes widening. "Are you gonna…_die_?" she asked, mouth dropping open to form a shocked 'O'. Brenda narrowed her eyes, blowing a bubble in her gum.

"No. No, hopefully not."

"So how many people know about this?" Darla asked, sprawling out on the floor, head propped up on her right fist.

"One."

"Who?" Noreen demanded, leaning in closer; causing everyone else to follow suit.

Brenda tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know if I can tell you that…"

"Damn it, stop being so mysterious. It's not fooling anyone. Just spit it out," Amber moaned, though the look of interest had completely taken over her face.

Brenda smirked. "I don't think Jesse's the right one for me," she said innocently.

"That's it?" Lou Anne muttered. "Can I have my locket back?"

"Yeah, Bren. It's not like this is the first time you've gone through a boy in a month," Darla added hesitantly.

Brenda's smirk grew wider. She loved this. "So? I'm not…dumping him or anything. I can have two men on my hands at once," she said slyly, watching their eyes grow to the size of saucers.

"You didn't," hissed Tammy, excitement flicking through her eyes.

"Who's to say I didn't?"

"Geez, Bren. Do you really think that's a good idea? It's only going to end badly," Lou Anne cautioned. She was always the one with the sort of mothering quality about her.

Brenda rose up to a sitting position, thrilled to have their undivided attention. "But you haven't even heard the best part yet!"

Amber narrowed her eyes, studying Brenda cautiously. Slowly, her eyes grew wider. "I bet I know who it is…" she began slowly, confidence gaining. "I saw the way he…looked at you the other day, and…Oh my God, Brenda. Is it…" she trailed off, hoping Brenda would know who she meant. Amber had seen the way they looked at each other. She had just written it off as…well, she hadn't really given it a second thought.

"Brenda," she added. "You could both loose your jobs. You better hope I don't tell my mother."

"Well, that's the beauty of it Amber. It's dangerous. And besides, if you tell your mother, I'll know exactly who told her."

Amber shrugged, hooking her pointer finger through the collar of Tammy's dress, pulling her close enough to whisper into her ear. Tammy's eyes widened and she whispered something to the girl next to her. The chain continued until every girl in the circle got the news.

"My God, Brenda…" Noreen whispered. "That's so…risky. And romantic, too. Wow. And to think no one ever guessed."

Brenda grinned proudly. "I know. We've gotten good at hiding our relationship." She placed a hand over her heart. "I just wish we could be more public with it. He didn't even want to tell anyone, but I think you all should know. And besides, it would just _kill _Jesse," she exaggerated. The council girls nodded in agreement, like a bunch of bobble head dolls. "Plus, Amber is right. We could both loose our jobs. So…it's a sacrifice we have to make," Brenda added, playing on old clichés.

Amber shook her head, her hair barely moving.

"I'm going to bed," she grumbled, climbing to her feet and to the light switch, shutting off the lights and leaving the other girls in the dark, still gossiping about Brenda and her little…adventure.


	4. Cousin Monica

**A/N: **Ugh, I am so so so so sorry about how long this update took! I promise, the next one will be faster! Anywho, thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/alerted. I know that's long over due as well, so...forgive me! I hope you like this anyway, and I promise this story _is_ going somewhere. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hairspray, last time I checked...

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_"We're the new face of failure_

_Prettier and younger, but not any better off_

_Bulletproof loneliness_

_At best, at best_

_Me and you_

_Setting in a honeymoon_

_If I woke up next to you."_

--Fall Out Boy, "Me & You"

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**Mid March, 1962**

"Okay. So I'm your cousin, Monica, and I'm visiting from Washington, D.C. Right?"

"Right. So just…act like a cousin, alright?" Corny asked, pulling his keys out of the ignition. Brenda pouted, pulling her thin pink cardigan closer. The lone street lamp in front of the slightly run-down apartment building they had pulled up to cast a weak pool of yellow light into the car.

"What does that even mean?" she huffed, turning to look at him.

"It means…just," his hands gestured outward in a 'personal-space' motion, "keep your distance, okay?"

Brenda sighed, leaning over the cup holders filled with change, gum wrappers and a crushed empty Styrofoam coffee cup that still reeked of bad fast food coffee to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Fine. Okay. That's great, I'll remember that. Let's go," she groaned, already out of the car.

The neighborhood wasn't the greatest. Most of the buildings looked run-down, and it only looked like one trolley line ran through the area, not to mention the cigarette butts strewn across the sidewalks. There was a bar down on the corner, and when the door opened every so often to admit rowdy clumps of people or let out groups of staggering, slurring patrons with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths; shouting and laughter could be heard clearly from where Brenda was standing. One group of people loitering on the corner eyed Brenda curiously through clouds of cigarette smoke. She wondered if she looked young compared to the other girls people in this building brought home, or if she was dressed too nicely. Probably both.

"Do you ever go in there?" Brenda asked, nodding to the bar. Now she could see what the neon red sign on the door said: 'Tooley's', though the 'l' was about to flicker out.

"Uhm, no," Corny replied too quickly, leading Brenda to believe it was one of his regular haunts he mentioned often. He hurried up the stoop to the unlocked door of the building, not glancing back to see if she was behind him, though she was. The 'lobby' of the building was as about as classy as the rest of the neighborhood. The doorman leaned against the wall, chatting with some girl with dark circles under her eyes and more lipstick then Brenda had ever seen on any one person.

"This is the cousin?" Doorman asked without taking his eyes off Lipstick Girl.

"Right." Corny reached back and grabbed her hand, pulling her up a narrow flight of stairs in the corner.

"I thought we were supposed to be 'cousin-y'. Most cousins over the age of seven don't hold hands."

"Oh, no one'll notice. They're beyond that sort of comprehension. It's Friday night, ya know?" He winked slyly over his shoulder.

"Well, then why'd you tell me to keep away in the car? I- whatever. Isn't there an elevator?"

Corny laughed without looking back. "Did you see one in the lobby, Bren? Do you really think a building that barely has plumbing would have an elevator?"

"Wait. Shit, there's no plumbing here?" Brenda stopped dead in her tracks, clinging to the flimsy railing. He paused, sighing as he turned to look at her.

"Bren, seriously. There _is_ plumbing. You would smell it, babe, if there wasn't." He turned and continued up the narrow flight of stairs, causing Brenda to roll her eyes as she followed him.

"How much longer?"

"You're just a right little chatterbox tonight, aren't you?"

"Do you need me to stop talking?"

"No. Go on."

"Well, now I don't have anything to say."

The two walked in silence for a bit, until they reached their destination. Corny slipped the key into the lock, and hurried into his apartment, leaving the door open for Brenda, which she promptly closed behind herself as she entered. The front room was a mess; magazines and old newspapers were strewn every which way, a sports jacket tossed over the TV in the corner, the sofa looked like it was liable to burst at any given moment. Basically, it was everything Brenda expected it to be. The apartment had the faintest scent of mildew and stale coffee.

"Your apartment smells bad," she announced, though she was sure he wouldn't be able to hear from his place rummaging around in the kitchen. Brenda sighed and picked her way into the kitchen, which was just as neat as the front room. She collapsed into one of the two hard wood chairs placed around a rather old table in the center of the kitchen, crossing her legs at the ankles and sliding her pink sweater off. Corny turned around triumphantly, clutching a lighter and a package of cigarettes in his right fist. He held the cigarettes out to her in offering.

"You smoke?" Brenda asked, her eyebrows raised.

Corny shrugged, sticking a cigarette in his mouth before lighting it. "Why's it such a shock to you?"

"Well, I mean, it makes your teeth go all yellow. And then your lungs go bad and you can't sing."

Everything a TV personality doesn't want.

"Besides," Brenda added. "You shouldn't offer cigarettes to a minor."

"There are lots of things you shouldn't offer a minor," he said with a wink. Brenda sucked in a quick breath, surprised, before letting it out in an almost sigh. Laughing, she reached out to take a cigarette and stuck her wad of gum on the bottom of his kitchen table. He wouldn't care. Her mother said she shouldn't smoke. It wasn't ladylike.

But, then again, she had never exactly been the epitome of ladylike. And now, more then ever, that seemed to shine through, as she sat awkwardly in some worn-down kitchen smoking. They sat quietly for a while. This felt so…different from all the other times Brenda had spent with him. In his dressing room, there was a sort of danger to it. At any moment anyone could walk right in. But here, they were completely alone. It still felt dangerous, but in a different way. They could do, say anything, and no one would ever know about it.

And Brenda's mother thought she was at the library. Like she'd spend a perfectly good Friday evening doing her history project. After the moment stretched on far too long, Brenda huffed, leaving her cigarette in her mouth as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm bored," she said around the cigarette, almost causing it to fall into her lap, which would have ended badly since she was wearing a brand new dress.

"I don't know what to tell you, Bren."

"Yes, you do." Brenda nodded, uncrossing her arms in order to remove the cigarette from her lips. He narrowed his eyes at the girl.

"That doesn't even make sense."

Brenda rolled her eyes, coughing as she snuffed out her cigarette in a small ashtray placed on the kitchen table.

"You know…" she trailed off, lowering her voice. Brenda stood up, crossing in front of the table over to Corny, fingering his tie before sliding it off.

"I'm bored," Brenda repeated huskily.

"Well. Maybe I can think of a few ways to entertain you."

"I think you just might."


	5. It's An Emergency!

**A/N: **Well, here's the next chapter in this little story of mine. All I really have to say about this one is that it's longer and that it has some stronger language. But, other then that, that's about it. Enjoy, and please review! Danke.

Disclaimer: Pretty much positive that I don't own Hairspray.

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_"Today is the day_

_The worst day of my life_

_I'm learning to fall_

_I can't hardly breathe_

_When I'm going down don't worry about me."_

--Boys Like Girls, "Learning To Fall"

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**Mid-April, 1962**

"Brenda, love, could you come down and help with the groceries?"

Shit. She was home. Shit, shit, shit.

Brenda glanced around the painfully neat bathroom desperately, not sure what to do. She threw herself at the locked door, not wanting to open it, not yet.

"Lizzy?" she called out to her sister who waited on the other side of the locked door. "Could you help mom with the groceries?"

"Rennie!" the younger girl whined. "I really, _really_ hafta go! It's an _emergency_!"

Brenda flapped her arms at her sides like a chicken trying to take flight.

"Yeah, well, Liz… _I'm_ having a bit of my own emergency in here currently if you don't mind!" Brenda snapped.

"Mine's worse!"

'Does yours involve having a _child_?' Brenda thought bitterly, but shook the thought. If she _thought_ it, it almost made it real. Almost. And if she could put off making it real for now, she sure as hell would. Maybe it was a faulty test. Maybe she should take another. But now her mom was home, and Jackie would surely notice this time around. And what to do with this test…

Brenda's line of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone coming up the stairs.

"Mommy! She won't let me in!"

"Alright, dear."

Quiet. The sound of skirts rustling in the hall. Her mother banging on the door.

"Brenda! Let your sister in!"

"Mom…" Brenda moaned, snatching the test up from the counter.

"Brenda! Today!"

Brenda glanced around frantically, until she knew her choices. Door one; she swallows it. Door two; she flushes it down the toilet. Door three; she throws it out the window. Or, of course, D; all of the above. Hurrying across the bathroom, not without that _click, click_ of high heels Brenda was so used to, she flung the window open. If she tossed the thing out the window, it would land on top of the neighbor's trash can. How perfect. With one heave, Brenda had it out the window and in Mrs. Jenner's trash can.

"Brenda Ann-" Her mother was cut off and saved the trouble of strangling out Brenda's full name when she dove to the bathroom door, unlocking it and appearing before her mother and sister as fast as she could. Jackie narrowed her eyes at her eldest daughter, peering around the girl at the open bathroom window.

"Why's that open?"

Brenda shrugged, casually stepping out of Lizzy's way as the girl charged into the bathroom and stepping around her mother, fixing her hair which had deflated significantly after running around in circles in the upstairs bathroom. "I got hot," she replied simply, slipping into her bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

Mission: accomplished.

She had safely hidden the pregnancy test from her mother.

Now, how to deal with the next hurdle? Which was actually being pregnant.

Shit.

It was really real.

Brenda stepped carefully over to her full length mirror and examined herself. She didn't _feel _any different. Well, she did a little. She didn't look that different. Really. Brenda turned this way and that. She _had_ put on a little bit of weight lately, but not that much. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't happening. Slowly, as if in a daze, Brenda backed up against the wall, watching herself in the mirror.

"You," she began, speaking to her reflection. "You, Brenda Lawrence, are a stupid slut. But that's okay. Because you're not _really_ a stupid slut. This will all go away tomorrow morning." Brenda shut her eyes, and placed her pale hands over them. "This will go away, this will go away," she repeated over and over, in a sing-song voice as she slid down the wall into a curled sitting position on the cluttered floor. Determined, Brenda snapped her eyes open and slapped her thin hands on the ground beside her. She glared at her own reflection in the mirror, the same one she had preened over time and time again. "You, Brenda Lawrence, will not have a child!" she announced, pointing to the girl in the mirror. "You won't! You won't! You won't, you won't, you won't! You don't have the mothering instinct. You're only seventeen! You're too young! You can't have a child! You can't!" Brenda's fingers curled into tight fists at her side, and she wrapped her arms around her knees, burying her face in her skirt. She'd be okay. This was all going to go away.

The shrill call of the phone ringing didn't bring Brenda up to her feet. She let her phone ring, waiting for her mother to answer.

"Brenda!" her mother's voice came from the kitchen. "It's Darla."

Brenda sighed, and slowly crawled over to her bed and up onto it, rolling over onto her back to stare at the ceiling before grabbing the phone off her bedside table.

"Hullo?" Brenda asked dully, glaring at the ceiling. It was so dull. She'd need to brighten it up a bit.

"Bren! Okay, sunshine yellow or periwinkle blue? I like the yellow best, personally. 'Cause it's so bright and…and happy! You agree? "

"I guess. What are we talking about, again?"

"Oh, my Miss Teenage Hairspray dress, of course! Duh! It's all anyone's been talking about, their dresses. What does yours look like? Oh, by the way, do you need a ride to the dress shop on Saturday, because we were gonna go together for the fitting, remember? So mine's either going to be yellow or blue. What did you say yours was gonna be? Did I ask that already?" Darla's happy blabber came streaming over the phone. Brenda guessed she was only so peppy because of the dress. She was right, all the girls were getting really hyped up over the dresses. Brenda sighed. Well, that went down the drain for her, too. If this was really happening, she wasn't going to be competing in any pageants.

"Dar…I…I'm not going."

"Whadya mean? To the dress shop? But Bren! You promised!" Darla sounded hurt as she whined about the dress shop. Well, she had every right too be upset. But Brenda had more bitching rights at the moment.

"No, Dar. I mean, I can still go with you to the dress shop, but I won't have the dress fitted."

"What?" Darla gasped. "Why?"

"I'm not…I'm not doing the pageant."

"Excuse me? Brenda, why not?"

"Darla…" Brenda began, not quite certain what to say anymore.

"…Yes?"

"I…I can't tell you over the phone. Can I come over?"

"Sure. But Vicki and Becky are gonna be over in, like, five minutes."

"That's fine. They can hear this, too."

"Okay…Brenda, is everything alright?"

Brenda hesitated before answering. "I don't know." With that, Brenda hung up and rolled off the bed, attempting to regain her composure before she went down stairs. She slipped out of her room and down the stairs, passing her mom in the kitchen.

"Mom, I'm going to Darla's. I'll be back later, 'kay?" Brenda called as she left the house, starting the short walk to Darla's.

"Fine," Jackie called back, still working on putting away the groceries, with Lizzy's aid.

Darla lived across the street and at the other end of the block from Brenda. It was only a two minute walk, but it was just Brenda's luck that it should start to rain in that particular two minutes. It started with a single fat drop falling onto Brenda's nose. Then another, and other, until it had started to pour. She ran the rest of the way, trying to avoid the sudden torrential downpour. Brenda's hair was a ruin and her dress clung mercilessly to her body as she scurried up the Hans's front porch, pounding on the doorbell.

"Jesus, it's really coming down out there," Darla chirped, opening the door. She poked her dry head out of the wide oak doorframe as Brenda shouldered past into the nice, warm, dry foyer of the Hans household. Mrs. Hans stepped out of the gleaming white kitchen and into the cozy foyer, still drying a sparkling white dish with a perfect blue dishcloth. The one thing that always bothered Brenda about Darla's house was how…impeccable it always was. The whole household had that 'old-Colonial-barn-turned-cozy-little-cottage-house' feel. Glossy, polished wood everywhere, furry throw rugs in every room, porcelain show plates with pictures of luscious forests and stormy oceans painted on them placed on dust-less mantels, ridiculously spotless windows, over-stuffed leather armchairs. The whole deal. The living room even had a working fireplace, which always had a roaring fire in it, which was un-called for due to the constant Baltimore humidity. Brenda's theory was that Mr. and Mrs. Hans used to live on the Appalachian Trail or something, and they needed some reminder of home.

"Oh, Brenda, love, you're completely soaked! Do you need to borrow one of Dar's dresses?" Mrs. Hans cooed, brow wrinkled in concern. Brenda shook her head, trying her best to cover her figure. What if Mrs. Hans noticed her change in shape? Though Charlene Hans wasn't known for her talent of noticing people's change in weight, Brenda thought darkly. When Darla had gone on her notorious 'dieting' binge, when she had used…unconventional methods to get weight off fast, Mrs. Hans had failed to notice that her daughter was shedding pounds unnaturally quickly. A bunch of the other council girls were doing the same thing, and no one had been concerned, but Bren had noticed. She still felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn't done more to help Dar.

"C'mon, Brenda," Darla whispered, motioning up the stairs to her room. At that moment, the doorbell rang a second time and Charlene Hans hustled past the girls to pull open the heavy oak door revealing a significantly soaked Becky and Vicki.

"Wow, who knew you could get this wet walking from the car to the house, huh?" Becky said cheerfully, stepping into the house and wringing out her short mouse-brown hair onto Mrs. Hans's Persian rug, much to Mrs. Hans's apparent dismay. Vicki nodded along, carefully stepping around her best friend's puddle. Vicki and Becky were best friends, who looked like they should switch appearances. Becky was a petite girl, with small features, and upturned nose and thin, mouse-like hair which she kept cropped close to her face. Vicki had a more bold appearance, uncontrollable dark hair, full red lips, strong features, though Vicki was more mouse like then Becky by a long shot. Becky was, essentially, a drama queen. She had always harbored secret dreams of making it big in Hollywood as an actress, which lead her to be one of the more disliked council girls, since dancing wasn't her true "passion", and yet she had beaten out bunches of other girls for her spot on the show.

Mrs. Hans frowned. "I didn't know it would rain so hard. I'll get towels," she muttered, turning back into the kitchen.

"Let's _go_," Darla hissed, already half-way up the stairs. Vicki and Becky quickly followed suit, leaving Brenda to take up the rear.

Although Darla's room was clearly a teenage girl's, her mother's influence had found its way in there, too. The pale pink sheets on the bed were neatly tucked in, the glass case that had been built into the wall to house Darla's China doll collection was free of any fingerprints, dust or smudges, and all the pictures on the walls had been placed in simple wood frames. Darla sighed and collapsed onto her bed, pushing her sixteen year old teddy bear, Franklin, out of the way so she wouldn't have to sit on him. Becky and Vicki sat on the discarded Persian throw rug that looked like it had a better place in a prop store then someone's bedroom that Mrs. Hans had given her daughter. Brenda perched uncomfortably on the corner of Darla's bed, fiddling with her hands.

"So, Bren, what was it you had to tell us?" Darla asked, craning her neck to get a better look at her friend. Becky leaned forward expectantly, always ready for a piece of good gossip.

"Ooo, what is it?" Becky chimed in. "Speaking of, did you guys _see_ Doreen at Fender's party last weekend? With that guy that Shelley brought? It was her cousin or something. Anyway, I heard that Sketch ended it with her the next morning." Brenda winced, shutting her eyes momentarily.

"That's a really great story, Becky," she said under her breath.

Becky turned back to Brenda. "What?"

"Nothing."

Darla nudged Brenda with her foot. "Come onnn, Bren! You can tell us! Out with it!"

"What- what I just said or…'the big secret'?"

"I wanna hear the secret, of course!"

Brenda sighed and stopped twisting her hands together. She paused, and met eyes with the other three girls in the room. They watched her expectantly.

"I think..." Brenda was interrupted by Charlene Hans bursting into her daughter's room unannounced.

"Mom!" Darla whined.

"Darla Marie Hans, you know that whining is unsightly. I brought towels up for you girls." Darla's mother smiled down at the girls before placing a stack of neatly folded starch white towels on the rug next to Vicki's soaping skirt and slipping out the door. Darla rolled her eyes.

"She can be sooo annoying," Darla practically growled, flapping her hands at Brenda as means to tell her to continue. Brenda titled her head back and shut her eyes. 'Just get it out…Get it off your chest,' she thought.

"I think that I'm going to have a kid," she spluttered out suddenly, shocking everyone, herself included.

"Are you serious?" Darla's words dropped like stones.

"Yeah," Brenda softly responded.

"Shit."

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, what are you gonna do?" Dar asked, pulling herself up into a sitting position.

"I…I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

Becky and Vicki watched Brenda in a mixture of sympathy, horror and awe.

"Whoa," Vicki muttered. "So, are we the first to know?"

"You are…my parents don't know, the father doesn't know, no one knows." Brenda threw her hands in the air. She felt herself coming on the verge of hysterics. Hot tears were beginning to well up in the backs of her eyes, and she didn't even know why. She couldn't cry. Not here, not now. Becky leveled her eyes with Brenda.

"So, is Jesse the dad?"

"No." Suddenly Brenda really wanted to just laugh. Laugh hysterically for no good reason. Anything to keep the tears at bay.

"You slept with Corny Collins?"

Brenda paused. "Well, no. There was no actual 'sleeping' involved, if you want to get technical. But…well, essentially, yes. I guess…I guess I did." Brenda frowned, thinking about that. "It wasn't my idea. I just wanted to, you know…fool around. What we usually did. But then…things just got so out of hand. The next thing I knew…" she trailed off, letting them use their imaginations. "We were in his apartment," she added. Like it mattered.

"Really?" Darla breathed. "What was it like? I…I mean, wow. That's…okay. Wow," Darla corrected herself. "So when're you gonna tell him?" Brenda shrugged and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. The urge to cry was stronger now, and she didn't know if she could suppress it any longer.

"Do I look fatter to you?" she whimpered.

"No! Oh, no, of course not!" the girls chimed supportively.

"Tell the truth. Don't lie to me now, please."

The silence that hung in the room was enough to tell Brenda what she needed to know.

"Well…" Becky tentatively began. Brenda sprung to her feet, eyeing her reflection in Darla's mirror like she had done in her own at home. Now that her dress hugged her dancer's body, or what _was_ her dancer's body, thanks to the rain, her figure was in much better view. And she was different. She'd put on weight around the middle. And Brenda couldn't help recalling feeling uncomfortable during her first few classes at school the last few weeks.

"My God," she whispered, more for herself then anyone else. "This is real." And in that moment, Brenda pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from crying out, but that couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face.


End file.
